Defender
by MoriasDepths
Summary: 'Go get help. Leave. Accept that I can't save these people, not without allies. Leave them behind to die.' A decade later, Reth Shepard revisits Earth and remembers.   Based off the ME3 demo so obviously some spoilers, and contains a touch of AU. Fem!Shep


Chatter of tourists and the hum of omni-tools taking pictures of families against the backdrop of Memorial Park. Shouting and screaming of people ten years dead, moaning of husks, and the horrible hum of Reapers coming from discretely-hidden speakers near plaques and statues. My footsteps, loud against the concrete walkway. A soft scraping as my hand runs over the wall of a building.

"_Everyone's dying." A small boy staring out of a ventilation shaft. Backing away as I held out my hand. "You can't help me." _

_Anderson calling my name. My head starts to turn, and I feel as though I've been hit by one of Garrus' concussive rounds. The kid's going to die. Death already has its hand on this one. Like most of the people in this city. Like the batarians on Aratoht. Like Kaidan._

Down an elevator that didn't exist ten years ago. Along a nice, safe, wide promenade that overlooks the bay. Eyes flicker up of their own accord. There had been a frigate somewhere over that way...there, perhaps? Or was that building new? Maybe the ship had been more to the west. Either way, when it had blown, it had taken out...this part of the walkway? Yeah, it had to be this section, because there were the bay walkways, right where they should be. Another elevator, this one down to the waterline.

_Miranda might say that Cerberus had brought me back exactly as I had been, but I beg to differ. Pre-death me wouldn't have had any issues jogging atop the soaked wreckage of buildings and ships, but the extra weight I was carrying would have slowed me down, slowly tired my limbs. Post-death me just kept running. And when we met those soldiers, post-death me simply picked up the wreckage pinning the one, as though it was nothing. And I was pretty sure I remembered having a harder time pinning headshots on husks. Point and shoot, point and shoot. Glance behind me to make sure everyone's head was still down. Shockwave. Point and shoot. Go get the transmitter from the downed shuttle over yonder. _

_'Exactly as I had been', hah! How heavy was that chunk of metal, anyway? Doesn't matter. Get to beacon, bring Normandy in. Lives here to save. Lives that death hasn't claimed yet._

I'd heard Anderson had a hand in designing the Park. I hadn't believed it until now. But these water-level walkways were laid out very much as the wreckage had been a decade ago. I can trace my old path...over a metal bridge, along a walkway, crossing over to this other walkway. Pause to look out over the maze. There had been more husks here, batarian husks with guns. Easy targets. Make sure everyone was in cover. Shockwaves along the concrete and twisted metal. Pop head up long enough to snipe one or two. Hope that Reaper walking through the bay doesn't decide to turn around. Duck back in cover. Easy.

_Don't really remember much of what came next. The shuttle's beacon is active and Anderson and I are shooting husk after husk after husk. Limited ammo. Use my biotics as much as possible, give Anderson as many of my clips as I can afford. Explosion startling me every bit as much as it must have (briefly) startled the husks. Joker's voice announcing the cavalry's arrival...well, it was among the top ten moments I was happiest to hear him. He's saved my ass more times than most realize. _

_The Normandy swings around to pick us up. I grab everything I'd been carrying and sprint towards home. Is it a bad sign that having to jump to get onto the ship is becoming normal? At least there isn't an endless fall underneath this time. Ashley's helping hand isn't even really needed, despite the extra weight on my right arm._

The Normandy isn't present today, of course. But there is a small platform roughly where she had been hovering. The walkway leading to it is has a chunk missing on one side so that people can test their jumping skills if they so please. (There's a ramp leading out of the water back onto the walkways for the ones who fall short.) Both Michael and I clear it without any trouble. Both of us are panting slightly as we slow to a stop, but it's more from the memories than from the sprint. A family lead by two Spectres tends to be extremely fit. Michael scans the skyline and points. "There."

_A trio of shuttles sit atop a building-top landing pad as frantic civilians help one another aboard. Many of them are injured. I see faces glancing up at the Normandy, terrified faces looking for some sign of reassurance, someone to protect them. The dog tags that Anderson just tossed me are cold in my hand. Go get help. Leave. Accept that I can't save these people, not without allies. Leave them behind to die._

_My eyes rise to meet the Reaper walking around the corner. There's nothing I can do except watch. A shuttle rises...now the second. The Reaper turns to look at them and fire leaps from its eye. One shuttle dies in an instant. The second climbs desperately for the sky, but is cut down barely a heartbeat later. The wreckage is still falling when the monster turns its attention back to cutting down the buildings it walks through. Michael is shaking in my arms as we watch._

My teenage son is far too tall to carry these days, but for a moment he looks eight again as he stares at the spot where the landing pad used to be. "That's where I was heading," he finally says. "I would have been on one of those shuttles."

My hand rests on his shoulder. "I know." And I do know, despite the impossibility of it. Husks might have gotten him along the way. He might have been evacuated on the very first shuttle, the one that lifted off before the Reaper got there. Hell, for all we know, he might simply have taken too long and gotten there after the shuttles were destroyed. But in that building where I first saw him, I knew Death had scheduled him to arrive just in time to get onto that third shuttle. Crazy? Yes. F*** off, as Jack would say.

_Crouched in front of that ventilation shaft, that sudden knowledge had kept me from turning to face Anderson, gave me the split second to react when Michael turned away to scramble down the shaft. And it gave me the desperation to bioticly grab his ankle and pull him back to me; made me pick him up and carry him all the way to the Normandy, despite knowing it was insane. Death had stolen enough others supposedly under my protection, it would not have this boy. Not if I could help it._

Garrus slowly walked towards us, uncertain if Michael and I were done revisiting old memories. I nodded and he visibly relaxed. Our children immediately took that as an okay to dash up the walkway towards us. Pala and Nihlus cleared the gap, but little Kaida was following her siblings too closely and stumbled into her jump. All three youngsters dove to the edge of the gap and waited tensely until their sister surfaced, spitting water and boiling mad. Now that she was out of 'danger' they trotted down to retrieve her, teasing until she gave her nearest sibling (Pala) a solid smack and suddenly joined in the general laughter.

I rested my head against Garrus' shoulder as we watched our bickering children walk back towards us; two human and two turian. He wasn't with me the day the Reapers came; but he knows well enough about old memories, and the lives Death has stolen from both of us. He's the only other person I've told the whole story to. He didn't have any more answers than I did, but in the end we both agreed that that wasn't the important part. The important part was that one more life still blazed against the darkness. That I, and later we, had protected one more person than Death had intended. That ten years later, my adopted son was able to retrace his steps and remember how close he had come to death.

"_You can't help me..."_

Like hell.


End file.
